


primal/carnal

by velificatio



Series: the belly of the beast [1]
Category: Dark Knight Rises (2012)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Berserker - Freeform, Bestiality, Blood Kink, Cannibalism, Knotting, M/M, Magical Realism, Masochism, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Rough Sex, Sadism, Scent Marking, Size Kink, Vikings, Watersports, Werewolves, references to rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-07-14 07:56:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7161410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/velificatio/pseuds/velificatio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Unwittingly sent to lead a small army into a massacre, berserker Bane is pulled from a hellish winter landscape by a lone wolf boy for a special purpose.</p>
            </blockquote>





	primal/carnal

**Author's Note:**

> For a look of what Bane and Blake look like in this verse see these drawings: http://decodilapidation.tumblr.com/post/165437407712/viking-bane-and-johann-concept-sketches-missing-a

_I don’t know how to stay tender_

_with this much blood in my mouth_

**Emma Tranter**

 

Cold was a comfortable sensation for Bane. Pampered werewolves, accustomed to consistent shelter, to warmth, frowned at such weather in the greatest display of betrayal to their lupus nature.

 

They were a breed above humans, made to thrive even in this wintry northeastern landscape of the Danes, to prowl and strike in the snow covered terrain with the same ease they had when the land was a sprawl of green grass.  

 

Bane let the snowfall touch his shorn scalp, uncaring of its chill. It was felt beneath his chainmail, undertunic, even through the weathered leg wrappings brunching up his trousers. Mere hours had past since he’d felt it between his forepaws, coating his claws.

 

As was customary, his werewolf pelt was draped over his cloaked shoulders. The only touch of softness Bane allowed on himself. Even it was weathered in haphazard patches of scarred grey and black fur, matted from constant periods of shifting with little reprieve. Such was the life of an ulfhednar , a hunt which spanned all seasons.

 

Outside his pack prey was all around him, tickling his nose with their scent, their weakness. A lesser alpha, containing Bane’s strength and rage would have long gone feral. But by no means was he a mindless beast.

 

From atop a hill he surveyed the village at its mouth, where his quarry lied. He and the small band of ulfhednars under his command had spent weeks crossing leagues to come here. As such, some felt the temptation to attack as soon as they stood on this threshold. Bane knew such a move would be foolish, werewolves were at their strongest under the moonlight and the sky had not yet been touched by dusk.

 

For now he watched his pack, all fellow alphas, as they sifted through a graveyard, scenting for fresh human corpses to take sustenance from. All of them had reverted to their human form, a necessary rest needed from spending so many consecutive days in their wolf skin. Bane himself was coated in soil from the time he’d spent burrowed in the earth, waiting for his human skin to fully reform.

 

“Brother,” Barsad the Red carried a bloated, discolored man’s corpse over his auburn wolf pelt. “This was the freshest one.”

 

Bane’s smirk set his eyes crinkling. “For now.” When darkness came they would strike the piece of land their head alpha Henri the Demon’s Head had sent them to cleanse. A village on the edge of the Reaper Lands, a vast forest home to revenants, bewitched trees, dökkálfar _,_ all manner of dark mysteries spoken of in whispers in taverns. Even now it was shrouded in fog.

 

He turned away, returning to their camp that was now heavy with the bitter aroma of their territorial scent marking. “It's unusual for humans to take up roots so close to dangerous territory.” Bane took the forearm Barsad tore off for him, biting at the thickest portion of the meat. Years spent living in the Nether Well, in darkness surrounded by feral predators had taught him not to handle his food lightly. He ate with haste, as if expecting at any moment to be challenged for his meal. None would dare, not anymore.

 

Barsad shrugged, cleaving away more portions of skin with the pointed tip of his curved nails. “Myranda herself said this village was home to a clan of humans worshiping Freyr. They took her in when she escaped from the Nether Well and helped her find the Demon’s Head. Perhaps in addition to seasonal blót they send sacrifices to those in the Reaper Lands in return for peace.”

 

“Peace is never a constant state in this world.” Bane said, musing to himself. “No matter how many trinkets, feoh or humans one gives to the gods.” He was the most powerful ulfhednar in their pack. Barsad as well, was not a lupus to be underestimated. Was such an alleged easy victory one that truly required both their efforts?

 

Then again, the Demon’s Head had made clear he wished to make his own pact with those in the Reaper Lands. From that perspective it made sense to send in those who garnered the best results without fail to claim such a critical territory. For all their head alpha had never regarded Bane with good favor, perhaps he was searching for a ruse where none existed.

 

After sundown they gathered back atop the hill, Bane flanked by his fellow ulfhednars. In a frenzied state they tore off their clothing, covering themselves with their pelts. As moonlight basked down on them they shifted, the beast lurking beneath their human appearances emerging from their flesh. Their pack howl was louder than the drums of war, the only warning before they charged down towards the village.

 

Fury was as great a weapon to Bane as his fangs and claws. It drove his ferocity, his blood thirst. He cut his fangs on throats, tore muscle from bone. Opened belly after belly with his claws. The blood and gore of his prey coated him, an incomparable trophy. Through house after house he rampaged, slaughtering all who stood before him.

 

Then in a flash as swift as lightning he was struck by a shieldmaiden’s blade. A blade forged from silver. One blade, then another, a small army of women emerging from a temple.

 

So it was true. This was a betrayal. The weakness of a werewolf was known to few. Bane thought of every rebuke, action of distaste and even repulsion with which Henri had treated him. How he should have known, in his bones that this was coming. How foolish he was believe the alpha was above such an act with one of his own.

 

A volley of silver-tipped arrows rained from the sky, cutting ulfhednar after ulfhednar down. Though wounded, Bane’s rampage continued. He cut down four shieldmaidens before they began to retreat with the remaining survivors.

 

Snow clogged his snout, mottled with red. He huffed, pushing it out, a weakened growl leaving him as well. Nearly all Bane could scent was the copper musk of his own blood, the torn portions of his muzzle, fat-soaked gore from his prey, wetting his paws.

 

Blood was flowing out faster with the rapid pounding of his heart. _Survive_ , Bane thought, though he did not have the strength needed to burrow and begin to shift. Wolf’s skin would have to suffice. With the will of a hunter unwilling to be struck down he dragged himself further and further from the village towards his wolves.

 

His claws cracked further over rocks, adding to pain he pushed aside. Bane did not stop until he saw through his hazy vision that he was surrounded in that thick shroud.  He curled his bulk, painfully slow, until his muzzle was tucked between his rear legs, shielding it further with his tail.

 

It grew colder then. More frigid than any weather he had experienced before. Even so, contrasted with the stinging heat, the throbbing of pain in his muzzle it was a feeling he took comfort in.

 

+

 

Bane awoke as if having risen from a bed of rocks, able to breathe normally. Almost.

 

A strange mask had been placed on his face. Bane felt about it carefully, over the skull and horns of a bull at the top of it, carved symbols in the bone. Chainmail draped each side of its nose, connecting it to the jaw of some animal Bane was not familiar with, with large teeth and the two curved horns of what was likely a ram at the base of each side of it. The lower part of the mask seemed to also be attached to two cups of chainmail over his ears. In all this mask covered most of Bane’s face, leaving his eyes and brow exposed.

 

His first instinct was to remove it but he paused, realizing that the pain he ought to be feeling from the wounds to his face was absent, replaced by a sense of numbness. There was already fur growing from the gashes he’d been dealt. He could open his mouth (though not fully) without feeling as though he was ripping his face further open. Enough to speak.Still his faced moved in a foreign manner Bane knew he would have to quickly grow accustomed to.

 

Sorcery. Some magic of the vættir, perhaps a nisse _,_ but those solitary creatures did were not typically so benevolent to werewolves. Who then would do this for him?

 

He did a sweep of what he could see of his surroundings. Not far from him stood a runestone, its blue colored etching depicting a valkyrie in flight. A pile of moonseed sat in one of several wooden bowls placed near an altar. There was a bow and arrows, a smoking pot over a fireplace, and a bedding area of rya and bull-hide rugs.

 

The climate was too warm for the snowy area he’d last collapsed on. Had his body really been moved such a distance? He straightened up further, rising into an upright sitting position. Now he had a full view of the entire area and quickly came to realize the full extent to which his injuries and this piece of sorcery had debilitated him.

 

A werewolf’s sense of smell was their most invaluable tool. While not absent completely, Bane had to key in on scents other than the moonseed in his mask and its chainmail to realize- unacceptably late, that he was not alone.

 

However he did not require his acute scent to recognize what was in this cave with him. Lying at its entrance, near a shroud of hanging leaves was a white wolf. A lycanthrope, fabled wolves the size of adult horses, once werewolves themselves whose corpses had been left unattended. This one was a she-wolf, he could scent it better now, whose eyes when they trained on Bane were blue and a held a sharpness he’d only seen before in Talia.  

 

He inhaled deeply, seeking out other aromas. Another scent tickled his senses then, tinged with a sweetness similar to föhre wood. A touch of delicacy that could only belong to a lupus of a very particular gender. Bane was in the cave-dwelling of an omega.

 

From beyond the cave he could hear a steady rush of water, a tell tale sign of a river just beyond this place.

 

The she-wolf’s never left him as he rose, tentatively venturing closer to the entrance. While not adopting a submissive posture, Bane nonetheless kept his body language non-threatening. A single claw on the lycanthrope spanned the length of his hand, and their speed was even faster than a lupus.

 

Subtly parting the hanging tapestry of leaves and stones, Bane peered outside. A lighter fog permeated the area, many of the trees lacked their leaves and stood rotting. What leaves lied on the ground among moss and bushes bore the coloring of autumn. This cave did sit on the banks of a river, and Bane was indeed not alone.

 

A slender boy was soaking his black wolf pelt in the waters, body bare in the low afternoon light. His hair was a mass of black and grey curls atop his head, far longer than how most omegas Bane encountered kept theirs. Freckles spotted his back and shoulders. Norse designs of knotwork and symbols were tattooed all down both his arms and his right flank. His long fingers were equally slim as they rubbed fresh water over the pelt, all his focus on his task.

 

He had two rows of three large rosy nipples spanning from his chest down to just above his navel, the sign of an omega with the ability to carry a well sized litter. As with all male omegas his member was a small one. His omega sex, tucked between petite balls as every omega’s were, couldn’t be seen through the bed of downy curls around his groin and thighs. His hair was finer on his backside, fell down his legs as well. A single raised scar from a lash of some sorts ran along the length of his back.

 

Bane went back into the cave, waiting for the boy to come to him. He plucked a dagger from the altar, sat before the fireplace. The boy was a tiny wolf compared to him, but omegas were trained to fight as well as betas and alphas were. His body did not give the impression of softness despite its slim frame. This one as well appeared to have a touch for sorcery. And he was confident enough in his prowess, or too reliant on his lycanthrope’s abilities, to leave a recovered ulfhednar unattended in his dwelling. Bane bore the permanent brand on the nape of his, as every ulfhednar did, known to all werewolves.

 

It was not long before the boy ventured into his cave. Seeing Bane sitting near the fireplace, dagger in hand, he let out an irate bark. As he stalked forward to stand in front of Bane his she-wolf prowled behind him, dipping her head down to nudge at his hair, huffing. The omega’s demeanor became noticeably less angry at that, if only for a moment.

 

“This is not a land where one survives doing deeds out of the goodness of their hearts.” Bane stroked the tip of the dagger with his finger, calm as he looked to the boy. “Why did you bring me here? ” He tapped one of the many horns on his mask.

 

“Frieda felt you were worthy. We watched you fight.” The boy said, almost snarling. “I wasn’t sure we should be messing with a _berserker_.” He spat the word like a curse. “You’d already shifted back when we found you. But I think I should have dug a hole and buried you there anyway instead.”

 

Frieda, for that had to be the she-wolf’s name, made a low grumbling noise in her throat. The boy looked to her, frown softening before he sighed, chastised apparently. He turned back to Bane. “My name is Johann. Yours?”

 

“Bane.”

 

“That’s fitting.”

 

Bane chuckled unkindly. “So the feral boy has a low regard for my sort.”

 

“I know all about your sort,” Johann curled a hand into a fist, a flush spotting over the freckles on his face. “You attack smaller packs, force them to join you or die. You take away our freedom to choose how we live our lives.”  

 

“Wolves who choose to live amongst humans, or isolated from other packs, are the reason our race is not as formidable as it should be.” Bane tilted his head at Johann. “Surely you realize humans do not, will not, fully accept you. They fear you, let you live with them to pacify you. When our weaknesses to wolfsbane and silver inevitably becomes more well known they will turn on you. They will try to destroy you.”

 

“The only reason they fear us is because of wolves like _you_.”

 

That drew another laugh from him. “Hardly true. However if you’re so repulsed by me, why make this mask for me? Ulfhednar’s wear their scars like pieces of gold.”

 

“And I made your mask as monstrous as I could think of so as not to diminish your reputation.” Johann huffed, rolling his eyes. “Without it, outside your full lupus form you’d be in agony. Your wounds were too bad for the moonseed to heal them alone. It's not just that plant in there, I soaked it in my blood then let the rains bathe it. If I die, your pain returns.”

 

Bane mused in silence, now having a greater measure of what kind of wolf he was dealing with. A naive youngling, mostly likely from a pack that chose to coexist with humans in a farce display of peace and unity.  

 

Johann had shifted his attention elsewhere, was tending to the smoking pot that smelled of fox, hare, and berries. He retrieved a pile of bowls, notably not putting a wide bereth of space between himself and Bane, in spite of his verbal hostility.

 

Bane took the bowl he was offered. “Your magic is powerful. You practice seid?”

 

“Yes, I came from a clan of seiðr omegas, the only male child they’d had in many summers. Unfortunately our village became the territory of an alpha chief named Petrus Flat-Nose. He wanted an _ergi_ omega boy for a mate, so I was given to him.” Johann grimaced, eyeing Bane as if expecting to be insulted. He set a large bowl of stew before Frieda, scratching behind her ears. “He wasn’t a suitable mate, so I ran away. Frieda saved me.”

 

Bane only nodded. Effeminacy was not a trait held in general favor by werewolves, even for omega boys. However there were alphas and betas known to indulge in prettier lads, usually taken as concubine mates. “I last remember collapsing on the edge of a wintry forest, known as the Reaper Lands…”

 

Johann shook his head. “This _is_ the Reaper Lands. The forest only freezes those it does not choose to accept.”

 

“Such as?” Bane asked, interest piqued.

 

“Those who lack dark hearts.”

 

+

Johann had yet to elaborate on precisely what Frieda had deemed Bane worthy of. At this point he didn’t have to. Bane already knew.

 

The bed he lied on, hefty brushes of leaves and moss, blanketed with the soft fur of two bearskins, it was a nest. A mating nest, commonly made by alpha’s approaching their rut. Or omega’s nearing their heat.

 

He’d felt Johann’s eyes on him when he thought Bane would not notice. A thickening aroma of his pheromones, sweet and earthy, was easily scented through the mask. Whatever moral objections he had to ulfhednars, their methods and beliefs, instinct compelled him to seek out a mate to breed with.

 

Why else keep himself so close to Bane, be so forthcoming in answering his questions? Subtle acts of submissiveness.

 

Bane himself had not taken another, human or lupus, since his time in the Nether Well. Even then, the pleasure he took was in conquering, shaming wolves who tried to dominate him and failed. Their pained whines were more arousing to him than the feel of their bodies around his cock. Since joining the Demon Head’s pack, Bane had taken to burrowing himself in the ground when the time came for his rut.

 

As such he felt his body responding to Johann’s pheromones. His skin was growing warmer by the hour, adrenaline and arousal rising in his body like twin floods. With his discipline he was better at outwardly concealing his state, but he could not conceal the smell of it.

 

Of course, he was by no means obligated to remain in this cave. At any moment Bane could take his leave, regardless of whether Johann or Frieda wished for him to stay. An unfamiliar urge had set itself inside him however, before his rut had began to rise. The want to have another, to fuck them. An act of dominance not borne of competitive savagery, but genuine desire.

 

Johann was lying beside Frieda’s belly, suckling milk from her. The Reaper Lands could grow icy if the creatures that dwelled within it felt under threat, so he’d told Bane. Frieda’s milk enabled him to withstand any amount of cold and kept him nourished.

 

“You’ve fed from her four times now. Are you so parched?” Bane asked, eyeing the pile of dead animals.

 

Johann wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I am _starving_.” He rose, moving to place his werewolf pelt atop his nest. Darkness was beginning to cover the sky. It would not be long now.

 

When Johann returned to his side there was a tremble in his form. “Frieda said you were a fine choice.” He looked at the vast span of hair on Bane’s body, glancing away when his gaze fell on Bane’s heavy cock. “She’s never been wrong before.”

 

“What of your former alpha?”

 

“He’s dead.”

 

Interesting for a runaway mate to be aware of that. “You know as well as I it is forbidden to lie with a head alpha’s widower mate.”

 

Johann frowned. “You would not be the first to disregard that. He was weak anyway.”  His fists curled then, an anger flashing in his eyes not borne from Bane’s presence but a memory.

 

“He gave you that scar.” There was no question in Bane’s tone, he knew it to be true.

 

“His beta bitch did on his order, while he feasted on children,” Johann lifted his head proudly, eyes fierce. “I put his own dagger through his skull for it. Seiðr omegas only submit to mates who’ve proved their superior strength. I wouldn’t let him bite me, claim me.”

 

Bane took a step closer to him. Enough for Johann to feel the their difference in height and build, all without making physical contact. “Shall I claim you instead?”

 

At first Johann’s gaze fell to the floor. Then, gradually, it traveled back Bane’s form. He tilted his head up to better look him in the eyes. “Frieda and the forest have already claimed me.”

 

+

 

On the following night, when Johann’s heat scent had reached his peak, Bane cornered him by the nest. A rut had been willfully awoken in him and there was no question of where he wished to be for now. The hours he'd spent in this cave, in the company of that fair scent, had gone on long enough. He wanted to bridle this wild boy.

 

He pushed him down onto the nest, thrilling at how light Johann’s body felt in his grasp.  It would be easy, so easy to bend and break this boy. But he wouldn’t, at least not with the same intent he usually broke wolves.

 

Bane smacked Johann’s little cock, curious to the reaction it would inflict. What he got was a yelp, Johann’s body bucking, then a sound that was undeniably a moan. That slender body arched up towards Bane’s hand, silently begging to be struck again.

 

He obliged, this time with very little of his strength held back. The slap of his palm over Johann’s member, Bane’s hand so large it covered it entirely, echoed through the cave obscenely. He gave him no reprieve, hitting him once more, over and over, until his cock was fully hard, flushed a deep red. Then Bane aimed further down, over a plump cunt nestled between Johann’s balls.

 

“ _Oh_ ,” Johann cried, his hands fisting his pelt. “Fuck!” He keened at Bane, trembling as he was struck again.

 

A little rope of slick clung to Bane’s fingers as he drew his hand away. Surely beneath his bed of curls Johann’s pink sex must be reddening under his heavy touch. He held his hand up, studying the wetness that was unfamiliar to him. “Perhaps,” He mused, eyes crinkling as he smirked at Johann. “The little wolf has unknowingly asked to be taken by a bear.”

 

Johann’s eyes widened as Bane’s hand traveled back down between his softly-haired thighs, but not to his sex. No Bane tightened his grip on Johann’s throat, reveling in his cry as he roughly shoved two fingers past his puckered asshole. Unlike his cunt he had not yet began to grow wet there but that was fine. He still trembled and pulsed around Bane’s thick fingers as he fucked him open, rapidly, taking pleasure in the feel of Johann’s hot channel squeezing then yielding to his touch, the stretch of his rim around him.

 

This was an act he’d never done before, only heard tales from Barsad of the pleasure it could bring. How it could make even an alpha weak with desire. A bead of slick began to weep from his cunt, dripping from his curls down to wet Bane’s hand. He growled, the sound making Johann’s hole clench. The curve of his nails nudged up against a spot inside Johann that made him give a shocked cry. Not one of pain. Bane beared down on him, covering that small body with his bulk, adding another finger, focused on tormenting that spot with his touch. Heavy in the air was the scent of Johann’s heat, his growing want, but not his submission. Not yet.

 

Bane fixed him with a hard stare, commanding Johann see, feel no one else but himself, his dominance over him. “Yield to me.” He said.

 

Johann whimpered, shutting his eyes tightly before opening them again at Bane’s threatening growl. He shuddered then, his muscles tightening, piss spurting from his cock, marking himself on the belly, sex and thighs. Wetting Bane as well, who fingered him harder, faster, rocking his body up and down on his pelt. “Ahh.” Johann’s mouth went slack, a hiccuped whimper, leaving his lips. “Please, more.”

 

Bane grabbed a fistful of those curls, yanking them hard. He noted the way Johann’s lashes fluttered at rough handling, the way Bane made him sit up on his hands and knees. His face was inches from his large girth.  He parted his lips.

 

Bane’s cock was heavy in Johann’s wet mouth, stretching his lips wide, almost obscenely so. But apparently he was well practiced with this. He suckled on its foreskin, whimpering as he ran his tongue along that little hood where Bane’s crown peeked out.

 

Holding his hair still Bane rocked his hips forward, filling that tight throat. “I _will_ claim you little wolf.” He promised. “From the inside.”

 

Johann’s eyelids hung heavy, his expression blissful as Bane relieved himself. He could feel his throat seizing, bobbing frantically as he swallowed down all he could. Thin little streams of piss trickled out around those pink lips, pattering down onto his wolf pelt. Gradually the streams and droplets increased, as did the muffled gags from Johann. Yet he did not attempt to move away. Bane gave a hum; pleased by his omega’s obedience; and thrust his hips further; the thick hairs of his groin and balls pressing into Johann’s face.

This was not a novel act for Bane, yet the feelings he experienced were. He understood far more now how werewolves found indulging excessively in lust so addicting. Right now he thrilled at how Johann’s eyes were hot in their focus on him. Looking at Bane like as if to bare all his urges. There was nothing he would  hide from him. Bane could smell how much he wanted him. Knew he’d break him down, use him selfishly.

 

Surrender never felt better than it did now.

 

“Good boy.” He said, pulling out of Johann’s mouth. Bane slapped him again, hard enough to redden his face.

 

Johann shook, still coughing for breath as Bane moved to kneel behind him. He palmed his round, furry cheeks.

 

“Pain is not a feeling you recoil from.” Bane said, careful not to overtly express his delight. “You welcome it, crave it.”

 

Johann gasped, not prepared for the strength the crack of Bane’s palm on his ass held. It was a test, no build up, just a sudden elevation of pain. To his pleasure Johann took it beautifully, crying out, jerking forward from the force. He tried to bury his face in his pelt, even as he tilted his ass back up for more.

 

Bane grabbed his hair, yanking him back up. Johann barely had time to whine before he slapped his ass again. Right, left, right. Each blow a harsh burst of pain that burned afterwards. Johann sobbed with them. From where he knelt Bane had had a full view of his pale skin pinking, then growing more and more red. Of both his holes twitching.

 

He took his cock in hand then, guiding its crown towards Johann’s puckered hole, pressing down on his shoulders to push his chest into the net, ass still held high. Johann’s moans were breathy as Bane took his tight channel. His body was at its hottest there, and Bane felt every gasp and tremor he made.

 

Johann’s hands fisted his pelt. He kept squeezing around Bane’s cock, unconsciously, pulling streams of pre-spending from him. His mouth fell open in a silent cry, Bane suddenly fucking into him harder. His thrusts were quick, relentless, making Johann’s ass bounce against his hips

 

The cave grew hazier, bright spots flickering in Bane’s vision. He watched his cock spread those bruised cheeks. Reveled in the loud, filthy smacking sound ringing out each time his hips slapped against Johann’s ass.  Bane growled, reaching for the back of his neck, pushing Johann’s face down into his pelt. “Tight little wolf…”

 

Johann whined, gasping for air against the furs, unable to lift his head with Bane’s hand pushing hard on his neck. His sob was muffled as his body clamped down on Bane, the smell of his seed tickling the air again.

 

Bane did not allow him any chance to recover. Before Johann caught his breath he turned him onto his back, knocking his thighs apart. His cunt was so wet Bane tasted its scent on his tongue. Never had he taken another there. But hesitation and uncertainty were far from his mind. He snapped his hips forward, driving into that soaking sex.

 

“Yes!” Johann cried, moaning when Bane grabbed his throat. Bane felt the puffy lips of his sex rolling up his cock as it pushed inwards, dragging back along the veins around his length when he pulled back.

 

Johann’s eyes rolled back, his small pink tongue darting out to lick his lips as his face flushed. Even with the mask on Bane could smell the wetness of his cunt thickening as well as he felt it around his cock, heady with sweetened musk, dripping onto his balls. He tightened his hold on Johann’s throat, seizing the air from him, snapping his hips harder.

 

Around his cock, Johann’s sex clenched and clung to him desperately, his little body trembling, face growing redder and redder. Those nails of his scratched along Bane’s forearm, but there was no desperation for anything besides a sound rutting in his scent. Indeed his small cock was weeping out a puddle of pre-spending onto his belly, bouncing with the force of Bane’s thrusts.

 

Only when his grip on Bane’s arm weakened did he release his neck, growling at the sight of red and purple blooming on that vulnerable throat. Of Johann gasping for breath, tears clinging to his lashes. The thick hair on his thighs and groin was soaked in the boy’s slick. Compelling him to take with more force, no mercy.

 

Johann tossed his head from side to side, those wild tresses flying about his face. He arched his back, moaning plaintively,  a cry spilling from his lips when Bane pinched and roughly pulled both his nipples. “Oh fuck!”

 

Bane laughed, voice graveled, striking him across the face with the back of his hand. His cock began to swell, larger and larger, the knot locking itself inside Johann. The first spurt of his come sent Johann writhing, his hands scratching through the hair on Bane’s chest and stomach as his cunt convulsed.

 

Tied together, Bane didn’t relax down onto Johann, not wishing for his bulk to be potentially suffocating. To his surprise it was Johann who urged him to lie atop him, burying his nose in Bane’s chest hair, scenting him deeply.

 

+

 

The last rut Bane recalled experiencing had lasted six days. Presently, he’d lost track of how many times the sun rose and fell, could only remember the way its brightness shone on Johann’s bruised body, how his scent was thickest at night when the moon was high.

 

Johann was never out of his sight, not even when Bane would venture over to the pile of food. He fed his omega from his hand, another primal display of dominance and submissiveness. Bane took him off his nest, up against the rocks, at the entryway to the cave. His territorial scent marked every inch of this cave.

 

Now Bane stood in throbbing pain, his mask taken away for Johann to coat the inside with more moonseed. Combined with the aggression of his rut, it felt like all consuming rage lit his skin.

 

When his face was tenderly touched he recoiled, snarling as he grasped Johann’s pale throat, mottled with bruises from their fucking. The scarred flesh of his mouth pulled back painfully with his jaw. Without the mask, without the magic, he was surrounded by flames. It had to burn in his eyes, boiling his blood with agony, with rage, yet also with _hunger_. He could devour this boy, tear flesh from bone, as readily as he could fuck him until the sun kissed the sky again. His own hand easily encircled such a fragile area.

 

Against the firelight in the cave his shadow appeared enormous compared to Johann’s. Towering darkness, ready fall over the only person flanked by the light.

 

Yet Johann stared at him without fear, feral in the eyes still, his expression almost one of relish. Tilting his head back slightly, he brought his hands up to Bane’s face. Despite the increase in tightness that was added to his neck, John’s mouth parted not to plead or gasp for breath but to wet his lips as he traced curved nails over the fur-covered scarring along the right of Bane’s mouth, the sliced off portion of his lower lip, raised hairs from the left of his jaw down to his neck. There he paused to dig his nails in harder, the pressure sending pulses of pain through Bane’s body.

 

He was not entreating for a tender touch. Quite the opposite.

 

 _I am starving._ Bane recalled his words from earlier. His breathing deepened. Here stood a mate in full view of all that made him monstrous, fangs never retracted, who wanted to be claimed by all the power and brutality Bane possessed. To see his own wildness met and conquered.

 

From her perch, Frieda remained at rest, her piercing eyes focused on him. She had her tail held high

 

Bane pushed Johann face down onto his nest, pressing his hand on the small of his back. He struck his ass again, needing to see red alongside the purple and black welts. Johann’s cries were ones of ecstasy, this assault lasting far longer than the first. He dissolved into tears when his abused skin was scratched, deep enough to have blood trickling down his thighs. The agony Bane was feeling became Johann’s own to endure alongside him.

 

He smeared his fingers through the blood before allowing Johann to roll onto his back, bringing them up to swollen lips. With deep concentration, Johann sucked each of Bane’s fingers into his mouth. As his tongue lathed around the digits, cleaning his blood from them  he a made soft, eager noise, shuddering.

 

Without warning Bane shoved two fingers further into Johann’s mouth, far enough to make him gag. His throat clenched. He could hardly breathe but that didn’t trouble Bane. A silent command was in his eyes when their gazes met. _Take it_ was the order given and Johann did so, whining as Bane fucked his fingers in his mouth, their tips nudging the back of his throat. Drool leaked out from his lips, sliding down his chin.

 

Arousal overpowered Bane’s pain. All this power and control held just in the two fingers fucking Johann’s throat. He was at his mercy, under his command and he wanted to be a good mate for Bane. The best. He moaned as well as he could around Bane’s fingers. They forced out humiliatingly wet, gagging noises from him. Still he tilted his head back without prompting, taking Banes’ fingers deeper, uncaring as he choked even more, spit dripping down his neck and chest. Bane couldn’t withhold his groan, feeling the animalistic drive of his werewolf nature pushing further and further to the forefront.

 

Until it broke free.

 

Frieda had left her spot atop the rocks, was prowling forward to lie down behind Johann, who eagerly laid his head against her chest. Bane nearly barked as he began to shift, but something in those blue eyes of hers held the noise at bay.

 

He lost himself in the spasms and expansion of his muscles, feeling his human skin peel away to merge with the lupus he truly was. Bane stood on his hind paws, arching his back in display of his form, his fangs bared.

 

A higher pitched whimper left Johann’s throat. He raised his legs, spreading them wide, his trembling belly on display. Black dirt was smeared across his skin, from his toes to a smudge over on his right cheek. Even so Bane could clearly see the dark marks of bruises on his thighs and ass, scratches there as well which were still spotted with blood. Panting, Johann’s hands spread his cheeks further, exposing his reddened bottom hole to Bane in the clearest display of total submission.

 

Wherever Bane wanted him, he could have him.

 

His hind paw claws dug into the ground, drool dripping from his muzzle as he mounted his mate, tail set high. Bane growled deeply, the tip of his member nudging against a wet hole, his omega’s arousal so high he had begun to grow slicker there as well. With a rough jut of his hips he was breaching him, pushing into heat and tightness even greater than in Johann’s cunt.

 

And all the while Frieda remained where she was, her fixed stare solely on Bane. He sensed she was not challenging him for the right to claim Johann, but instead demanding he claim his omega properly as an alpha should.

 

There was no ache from his wounds burning his body distracting him from the scent of pheromones in the air. The whine Johann made as he was taken with speed and savagery. Bane’s growl had his omega shuddering, hands petting along his furred flank, legs wrapping around his hips. Feeling soft skin against his fur, nearly able to taste the sweat rolling down pale flesh, Bane’s hunger grew.

 

Spit dripped from his fangs down onto the patch of hair in the center of Johann’s chest. He spread it over himself in rapture, his eyes rolling again as he began to pet Frieda’s leg. Then Johann tilted his neck up in invitation. Bane pressed his top teeth there, holding him in that submissive posture, only a fraction of pressure away from breaking the skin.

 

He felt himself begin to swell, his knot growing larger in Johann’s ass than it had before. Frieda nudged Johann’s hair with her snout, her tongue licking along his ear. Pushing him over the precipice. More whimpers fell from his omega’s lips, quivers shaking his body as he squeezed down on Bane’s knot, wetting his fur.

 

+

 

Bane stood before the riverbank, back in his human skin, mask returned to his face. It was daybreak and at the entrance of the cave, Frieda loomed, growling at him. Her tail was high, lips curled into a snarl. Johann slept on his nest inside, but now that their cycles had expired, Bane was meant to take his leave.

 

His pelt was draped over his shoulders. If he wanted to, he could shift and challenge Frieda for the right to re-enter. He didn’t.

 

No matter that he continued to feel lingering urges to claim Johann, Bane had a duty to his ulfhednars. He could not have been the only survivor, and surely they were looking for him.

 

So he let Frieda keep her claim on Johann, crossed the river without looking back.

 

+

 

Barsad stared at him in shock as he emerged from the Reaper Lands. Two other ulfhednars came towards him, awed by his mask as well.

 

“Henri the Demon’s Head has died. Myranda sent us back to find you. We feared the lands would take you.” He said. “That you would be embraced by Hel.”

 

From behind his mask Bane smiled. Myranda was not a wolf to be crossed nor betrayed, however indirectly. She would make a fine pack leader.

  
He stepped on corpse after corpse to come to Barsad’s side. “I was embraced by a darkness of a different sort brother. Come, I have much to tell our new leader. This is indeed a forest worth exploring, with much to claim for our own.”


End file.
